


Insomnia

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Insomnia, Late Season 2, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Scully can't sleep.





	Insomnia

3 a.m. 

The time of night Scully has come to know too well. Her best friend is 4 a.m.; if she falls asleep at all, it happens then. In that moment right before darkness changes into dawn, quiet as death. No matter what she tries (and by now she’s tried it all), she can’t sleep. Not at night, never for long. Her skin is on fire, her legs restless. Her mind is an endless chatter box, never quiet. There’s nothing she can do, but stare at the ceiling, at the TV screen and wait for morning to come. Her prescribed sleeping pills sit untouched in the bathroom cabinet. She’s thought about taking them, but she always stops herself. What if there’s another intruder? Another monster? What if she’s fast asleep, dead to the world, and it happens again? 

Every second day Scully considers calling Mulder. He’s mentioned sleeping problems. Demons, he said once, dismissively. It was before she was abducted, before Donnie Pfaster. Before she understood herself. Now if she were to ask he’d give her that look. He’s been wearing it ever since she’s come back. Like she needs to be pitied, or taken care of by him. All she wants is for things to go back to before, back to normal. She wants to fall asleep easily and anywhere, like she used to do. She wants Mulder to smile at her because of that silly habit. Not to see his eyes darken and worry because of everything else. 

At 5 a.m. she gives up. Scully turns off the TV, closes the book she’s been trying to read and gets ready for work. If she can’t sleep, she can at least be productive. 

*

“Good morning, Mulder.” Scully tries to keep the surprise out of her voice. It’s shortly after 7 a.m. and there’s Mulder behind his desk, a soft smile on his lips, going through files. 

“Morning. I’m glad you’re here already, Scully.” He jumps up and courteously, with his hand on her back, leads her around the desk and motions for her to sit down. She knows what that means: a slide show. Mulder’s alien-shaped mug is right under her nose and she takes in the strong, slightly bitter smell. 

“I found this very interesting case in – wait, are you drinking my coffee?” Mulder grins at her and she blushes.

“If you intend to drag me across the country, Mulder, the least you can do is share your coffee with me.” He nods, accepting it without further questions. Scully sips the still warm liquid and feels it run through her blood, giving her the energy to listen to her over-excited, probably not sleep-deprived partner.

Less than half a day later Scully finds herself at the airport. Mulder hands her a cup of steaming coffee identical to his own; he’s not sharing this time. She mouths a thank you. Her heart drums inside her chest; she should go slow on the caffeine. But it’s the only thing that’s keeping her awake. 

“You okay, Scully? You look tired.” There’s that look. The one she doesn’t want. 

“I’m fine,” she snaps and regrets it immediately. “I probably got up too early this morning,” she adds more gently. Mulder nods as though he knows what she’s talking about and takes another sip from his coffee. It’s going to be a long flight.

As much as Scully hates flying, she feels herself drift off almost right away. Mulder is reading a book next to her, occasionally stealing a glance over at her. She can hear all the questions he doesn’t ask about her well-being as if he were shouting them. Just to drown him out, she closes her eyes. She doesn’t mean to fall asleep; she doesn’t even think she can. But then exhaustion wins over her own demons, over the fear of monsters.

“Sir? You need to put your seatbelt back on.” When Scully opens her eyes she is looking into the smiling face of a flight attendant. Mulder, his head leaning heavily against hers, startles awake. Scully puts a hand on his thigh.

“What’s happening?” He yawns and turns to her. They’re closer than Scully thinks is appropriate and she wonders how it even happened. Clearly they weren’t this close when the plane set off? The armrest between them is gone, their thighs and arms touching.

“Put your seatbelt back on,” Scully says as she does the same. She runs her fingers through her hair and is convinced it smells like Mulder. She glances over at him as he rubs his eyes. There’s a stubborn lock sticking from his head and she wonders what he’d do if she reached over to smooth it back down.

“How long was that flight?” He asks absent-mindedly, looking at her with exhausted eyes. Scully is certain she must look the same.

“Two hours, three.” She checks her watch. “Almost three hours.” He should know, she thinks, as he looks pleased with himself, because he chose the case and booked the flights. But she decides not to dwell on it.

*

They spend all day working on the case. The local police are of great help, but it’s obvious they’re going to have to stay a while. Being sleepless at home is one thing; insomnia on the road is ten times worse. Scully steals secret glances at her watch, expecting Mulder to throw her out of his room. He doesn’t. 10 p.m. passes just like 11 p.m. Scully can’t stop herself from yawning and that’s when Mulder looks up from his files. His own eyes are small slits; he, too, must be exhausted.

“Are you tired?”

“Maybe a little bit. It’s been a long day.” Or rather a long month. She’s not going to admit that to him, though.

“Let’s get more comfortable.” Mulder clears crime scene photos and folders off the bed. Scully stares at him. He can’t be serious. “I’d rather keep working,” he says with a shrug. With a sigh she takes off her shoes and sits on his bed. Scully leans against the headboard, adjusts her glasses and grabs a folder.

“I might need a vacation after this,” she mumbles and sees Mulder smile out of the corner of her eye.

4 a.m.

A noise wakes her, startles her. Scully’s eyes pop open. For a moment she doesn’t know where she is and she panics; it’s happened again. They came back, they took her again. Blindly her arms flap about. Until she hits something solid, something warm.

“Ouch,” Mulder grumbles, slowly waking up next to her. Scully’s eyes grow wide.

“What are you doing in my bed?” She shrieks, but doesn’t make a move to get away from him.

“Actually you’re in my bed, Scully. This is my room.”

“That’s beside the point, Mulder. Why are you – why are we?”

“We were sleeping,” he yawns and then grins at her.

“Why are you so calm about this?” Scully asks him, tugging at the comforter. She’s cool suddenly, missing the feel of Mulder’s warm body so close to hers.

“Scully, we were asleep.”

“This is the second time it’s happened now. The same thing happened on the plane.” Mulder shrugs. Instead of getting up, he burrows further into the bed, turns his head and watches her.

“We were tired. I know I was.”

“That’s not the point, Mulder,” she sighs exasperated.

“What is your point?” If only she knew. “I haven’t slept this well in a while,” Mulder says softly, as if unsure of his words. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Or at all.”

“You haven’t? Why not?” He doesn’t need to answer; she sees it in his eyes. It’s because of her; new demons brought on by her abduction. They share them now. Scully blushes and is glad that the darkness in the room covers her.

“You wanted to know why I’m so calm about this. Now you know. If you want I’ll go sleep in your room.”

“Mulder, wait,” Scully says and reaches for his hand before he can leave the bed. “I have a confession to make.” He’s quiet next to her, waiting. Unlike him, she is not good at this. She doesn’t want to admit her sleeping problems, the fact that any of what’s been happing is still bothering her. She doesn’t want to admit it to him, to anyone. But when was the last time she slept this well, this long? She doesn’t want him to leave her here alone.

“I haven’t been sleeping well either. It’s been going on for a while now.”

“Why haven’t you told me?” Mulder scoots closer to her as though trying to shield her from any harm. She is torn between pushing him away and snuggling into his waiting arms.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Unasked, her voice breaks.

“Oh Scully,” Mulder whispers and closes the distance between them. He hugs her close to him and he feels so warm, so right against her that she can’t protest. “You should have said something.”

“What difference would it have made? You didn’t tell me either,” she scolds. “And I’m your doctor.” He chuckles against her. It should feel strange, it should feel awkward. Instead it just feels right.

“I would have known, Scully. I want to know these things.” His honesty is raw and she has to avert her eyes. “Next time tell me? Please?” Mulder isn’t one to plead. She’s never heard his voice sound so vulnerable. She lifts her head again and nods.

“Thank you,” he breathes against her, his words almost a kiss against her skin. “Now let’s pretend we’re not sharing the bed and get some more sleep.” Mulder grins at her and that’s the last thing Scully sees before she falls asleep again, easily, just like that.


End file.
